Malfoy's Eleven
by xxlei
Summary: To try it would be crazy. To pull it off would be impossible. There are a hundred reasons it won't work. But Draco Malfoy believes he can rob the wizarding world’s greatest fear. Are you in or are you out?
1. Uno

**Summary: **To try it would be crazy. To pull it off would be impossible. There are a hundred reasons it won't work. But Draco Malfoy believes he can rob the wizarding world's greatest fear. Are you in or are you out?

**A/N: ** Something I dreamt about a few nights ago. I'm semi doing this straight from the script. I don't have a full script, though. If anyone has any idea where I can get the Ocean's Eleven script for free, please tell me!

**Disclaimer: **Ocean's Eleven to George Clayton Johnson and Jack Golden Russell, and Harry Potter characters to J.K. Rowling.

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"State your name for the record."

"Draco Malfoy."

"You may sit down."

He sat down.

"Mr. Malfoy, the purpose of this meeting is to determine whether, if released, you are likely to break the law again."

Draco said nothing, but stared intently at the ground.

"While this was your first conviction, you have been implicated, though never charged, in over a dozen other confidence schemes and frauds. What can you tell us about this?"

"I was never charged."

"What we're trying to find out is, was there a reason you chose to commit this crime, or was there a reason why you simply got caught this time?"

"My wife left me. I got into a self destructive pattern."

"If released, is it likely you would fall back into a similar pattern?"

"She already left me once. I doubt she'd do it again just for fun."

"Mr. Malfoy. What do you think you _would_ do if released?"

Draco looked up, and for the first time in a while, his face broke into a wide smile.

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Draco walked to the front desk. The security guard looked up from a file in front of him.

"Malfoy, Draco?"

He nodded coldly, and the guard handed him an envelope. He emptied the contents of the envelope onto the desk in front of him. A watch, a wallet containing some money, a small key, and a ring fell out. It was the items he was forced to give up at the beginning of his Azkaban sentence. He put on the watch, pocketed the wallet and key, and fingered the ring a bit before sticking it in his pocket.

"This came to you today," the guard handed him an envelope. Draco looked at it a few seconds, then flipped it over, revealing an official looking seal.

"Those your lawyers?" asked the guard.

"My wife's." Draco replied. He tore open the envelope, and began to read.

"What's it say?"

Draco stared at the letter. He stuffed it into his back pocket.

"It says," Draco stressed the words coldly, "that I'm a free man."

He turned on his heel, and walked through the doors to his right. A guard by the doors raised two fingers in a salute, and Draco left Azkaban for the first time.

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Draco stepped inside The Three Broomsticks. The door slammed shut behind him. He wandered over to bar. He found an available barstool among the throng of people enjoying a butterbeer, and sat down. The bartender walked up to him.

"Want something?"

" Hi, Terry."

The bartender blinked.

"You must have me confused with someone else," he said, "The name's Danny."

Draco nodded. "I'll have a beer."

"You'll do better with beer at the Hog's Head," the bartender advised. "They have a good live band playing at 3:00."

Draco looked down at his watch. It was 4:54 pm. "3:00?" He stood up. "Thanks," he said, as he walked out. He walked down the street to the Hog's Head, which was mostly empty. He sat at the bar, and ordered two beers. A few moments later Terry walked in, and sat down beside Draco. He gulped his beer.

"Terry would be arrested if he was caught working in a bar," he explained to Draco.

"Ah," Draco laughed. "So now you're Danny?"

"Only in the business world. How was Azkaban?" asked Terry. 

"You'd never want to go there," answered Draco. He changed the subject. "Seen Jack lately?"

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Jack Sloper sat down at the bar at The Leaky Cauldron. The bartender wandered over to him, a rag for cleaning the countertops in hand.

"Jack, my man! Haven't seen you around in a while. How's the quidditch going?"

"Good, good," Jack answered. "We're doing some practicing in town. You know, that new pitch?"

"Yes, I've seen it. Very modern."

Jack smiled.

"So. What'll it be today? The usual?"

Jack nodded. A shot of the finest whiskey appeared in front him. He took a small sip, and held the glass up to his temple. He caught sight of the time from a clock on the wall, and quickly downed the rest of his drink. He tossed a couple a sickles on the counter as a tip and shrugged his jacket on. He apparated back to the pitch to continue his training, but he saw that the others had started without him. A closer look resulted in the realization that there was a new man among the team. A old friend of Jack's landed, calling out to him. "Hey, Jack! This guy is really good. Want to play?" Jack shrugged.

"Sure," he grabbed a broomstick. As he rose into the air he got a good look at this new guy. It was Draco Malfoy, fresh out of Azkaban.

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Jack and Draco sat in a bar outside both drinking beer.

"Listen, let's cut to the chase," said Jack. He felt that he had been chatted up enough. "Do you want another job?" Draco said nothing.

"Malfoy! You just got out of Azkaban."

Draco still said nothing.

"What would it be?" Jack conceded.

"How would you like to go to Paris?" Draco asked.

"What's in Paris?"

"My father."

"You-, " Jack smiled slowly. "You want to rob your father?"

"No." replied Draco. "I want to rob Voldemort."


	2. Dos

**Summary: **To try it would be crazy. To pull it off would be impossible. There are a hundred reasons it won't work. But Draco Malfoy believes he can rob the wizarding world's greatest fear. Are you in or are you out?

**A/N: ** I NEED A SCRIPT…I am begging anyone who has found one… you will be my hero.

**Disclaimer: **Ocean's Eleven to George Clayton Johnson and Jack Golden Russell, and Harry Potter characters to J.K. Rowling.

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"No. No!" said Jack, "You're _not_ robbing You-Know-Who."

"No," Draco told him with a signature smirk. "_We're_ robbing him."

"Why do this?" Jack asked.

"Why not do this?" Draco replied. Jack shook his head. "Because yesterday I walked out of the joint after losing four years of my life, and you're riding around on a broomstick." Draco paused. "Because the snitch always wins. Play long enough, you never change the stakes. The snitch takes you. Unless, when that perfect chance comes along, you dive hard, then _you_ take the snitch."

"Been practicing this speech, haven't you?" Jack smiled.

"A little bit. Did I rush it? Felt like I rushed it." Draco replied.

"No, it was good, I liked it. The 'riding around on a broom' bit was harsh."

Draco set his glass down on the table. "What do you think Harry will say?"

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"YOU'RE OUTTA YOU'RE GODDAMN MINDS!" yelled Harry. Jack fingered the ironwork on his chair, munching on a chip. They were sitting in the back garden of Harry's Edinburgh mansion. Draco shrugged.

"It's never been done before. Never," Harry continued. "And it never will be done. Whatcha think? You'd stroll up to him, strike up a conversation? 'Yo, Voldie. Gimme your money?' You'd be dead before the words even came outta your mouth."

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right." Draco conceded. "We could never pull this off."

"Never in a million years," ascertained Jack. Blew squinted at them.

"Alright," he said. "Well, I have some couches for you…I'll pop them over as soon as I get the chance." Jack and Draco stood up to leave.

"By the way," called Harry as they were almost to the door. "Just out of curiosity-- how did you possibly conceive you were going to do this?"

"Oh," said Jack, glancing at Draco. "Your dad—"

"Yes," Draco jumped in, "He taught me some curse…the Sedicem one …" These words had a great effect on Harry, because the glass he was holding dropped to the brick floor and shattered.

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"Who were you thinking of hitting up?" asked Jack as they made their way back to Draco's car. It was a '76 Mercedes, and quite good for a Muggle car.

"What would we need?" replied Draco, bending to a new low of asking other people's advice.

"You'd need at least a dozen guys doing some sort of combination of cons," Jack made a tuna fish sandwich appear out of thin air with a wave of his wand. "Off the top of my head, I'd say you're looking at a Wronski, a John Doe, a Mrs. Snippet, two Eaters, a house-elf, and not to mention the biggest Stubby Boardman ever."

"Right," Draco turned onto a side street. "Flint."

"Azkaban. Right after you got out."

"Krum," Draco threw out another name.

"Dead," Jack told him unsympathetically.

"No shit. On the job?" Draco replied with equal unconcern.

"Quidditch accident," Jack said with a mouthful of tuna.

"Did you send him flowers?"

"Dated his wife for a bit."

Draco turned a corner. "Good enough," he said. "Who's left?"

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Ron Weasley was watching the most exciting Quidditch game of his life. His team, the Cannons, were winning the match for the first time in a while. Ron was sure this would be the first win of many. He sat back, watching the team he had aspired to play on for many years. Suddenly, a man sat down in the empty seat next to him. Ron smiled.

"I saw you at the hot dog stand," he said. "Nice suit."

Jack shrugged, slapping down a ticket on the arm of his chair. "It's a ticket to Paris. Next week. Are you in?"

"What's the job?" Ron asked.

"I need an answer," Jack answered, munching on a magically appearing bag of salt and vinegar chips. "Are you in?" he repeated.

Ron pocketed the ticket, and reached his hand into Jack's bag to steal a chip. He leaned back against his seat, munching on the chip, and watched the Cannons finally win a game.

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	3. Tres

**Summary: **To try it would be crazy. To pull it off would be impossible. There are a hundred reasons it won't work. But Draco Malfoy believes he can rob the wizarding world's greatest fear. Are you in or are you out?

**A/N: **thank you to everyone who reviewed. I'm sorry this chapter is so short. The next one will be longer and more informative to the story, I promise. I also realize I have no knowledge of the geography of London. And i'm sorry if High Street doesn't actually exist. But I think it does because my Elle UK is about the best buys on High Street. But maybe that's just a metaphor.Please review!

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Zacharias Smith got on the Underground at 8:05 AM. He was going to work. He was a defense attorney in a nice little suit and tie office in the middle of London. The Underground was always busy, but still every morning Zacharias brought something to read, though he read it standing up. Today, he was reading a book about the history of the Impressionist movement. There was a man in a brown suit in front of him that kept banging into him, but Zacharias didn't notice. He was too busy reading his book.

He got off on the Leicester Square stop. He pocketed his book and left the station, stopping to buy himself a coffee and a cheese Danish for the office at his favorite shop. As he walked out the door, a man wearing a white Oxford bumped into him.

"Sorry," he said. Zacharias stared after him, but shook off the feeling and walked on.

Back on the Underground, the man in the brown suit noticed his wallet was missing.

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At lunchtime Zacharias decided to step out and stretch his legs. Walking out of the office, he reached into his jacket pocket to get some money and buy himself a sandwich. He opened the man in the brown suit's wallet and pulled out some bills. He threw the wallet into a trash can, and reached into his pants pocket again to take out his own.

His pocket was empty, except for a slip of paper. He pulled it out. It was a business card that read simply _Jack Sloper. _He flipped it over, and found _The Hanged Head, 221 Portabello Road _scrawled on the back. He shook his head.

Someone had just beaten Zacharias Smith at his own game.

XXX XXX X

Jack sat alone at the back of the pub. He read a newspaper, and checked his watch. He had a plane to catch. He sighed, stood up and tucked his newspaper under his arm. He was about to walk out when the door chimed and a young man walked in. The man noticed Jack, nodded to him, and walked over. Jack sat down again.

"Jack Sloper?" the young man asked incredulously.

"Zachy!" Jack laughed, shaking his hand across the table.

"How's it been going, man?" Zach sat down across from Jack, ordering a rum and Coke.

"Good, good. Playing with the League. How about you?"

Zach smiled. "Same job. Same old. Married, though."

"Really? To who?" Jack asked.

"Ginny. Weasley. Remember her?"

"'Course I do. Congratulations. Well, I can kill two birds with one stone, then." Jack laughed.

Zach suddenly started eyeing him warily.

"Malfoy's back in town," Jack shrugged. Zach said nothing, and Jack, taking it as a no, stood up to leave. "I have a plane to catch. I'll talk to you later, man." He walked out the door, letting a gust of cold air in.

Zach shook his head, and stood up to leave. He reached into his pocket to find some money to pay, but instead he found two plane tickets to Paris. He shook his head.

This man was _good._


End file.
